


. . . - - . . .

by ShadeDuelist



Series: Modern TF2 universe ('Bolt of Lightning'/'Sinner's Fire') [4]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Graphic Depictions of Illness, M/M, Original Character-centric, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3104924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeDuelist/pseuds/ShadeDuelist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a man to do when he's sick in bed?  When Gabriel Dantan, Pyro for RED, receives a text from a colleague and former lover who's also in the same situation, they quickly find ways to keep themselves pleasantly occupied for the day...</p><p>(and yes, the title is morse code)</p>
            </blockquote>





	. . . - - . . .

**Author's Note:**

> Written for and because of trossidevil, using her dastardly handsome Jarrod :D

“Oh god…”, Gabriel Dantan groaned as he once again rinsed out his mouth after having hung over the toilet yet again.  Of all the things in all the world that got him held back from battle,  _a flu_ had to get a hold of him.  “M-merde… j’me sens tout à fait misérable et malade… cette putain d’grippe-”  As if his body meant to show him that the flu was not to be disrespected, he took three large strides back to the toilet bowl, dropping to his knees in front of it and throwing up what felt like  _his innards_ into its pristine white bowl.  Once the waves of mingled nausea and cramping had subsided and once he’d flushed twice to get rid of the horrible flecks of brownish goop that had come from the very depths of his digestive system, he got up again, wincing as his knees felt sore.  “Mon boulot est de la lutte, et je ne ai jamais eu une blessure qui m'a fait suspendu de bataille, mais une grippe foiré me fait l'impression que je vais putain de mourir.  I swear to God, I’m usin’ my fuckin’ Backburner to sterilize every-fuckin’-thing-”  Just as he meant to rant on, figuring that his stomach wouldn’t get upset if he griped loudly about his situation, he felt another cramp hit hard and he winced, changing track.  “Okay, okay, merde, mon estomac est vide, alors que pouvais-je même vomir encore maintenant?”

As it turned out, a few minutes later, his body seemed to have a near-endless supply of gruesome fluid to eject from his stomach forcibly, and not just as vomit either: after the first wave of nausea, he found himself struggling to get back to his feet and seated on the toilet, not even having had the luxury of being able to flush his sick away before his bowels emptied with gut-wrenching speed.  And then, of course, once his bowels had started cramping, they hadn’t stopped either, seemingly giving his stomach and esophagus some much-needed respite in favor of draining his innards in a no less nauseating but somewhat less curse-inspiring way.  All in all, when Gabriel finally felt safe to move back out of the bathroom and towards his bed, he felt like his entire body had been emptied.  On his kitchen table, the remains of his breakfast still stood, mocking him - he made to clean it up but his stomach gave a faint little jerk, like a ghost of that first painful stab of nausea, and he groaned before dragging himself to his bed and settling under the covers.  Sam was in battle - he’d tried to call the Administrator to get her held back but Rudolf had been adamant in refusing it and he’d even gone so far as to contact the iron-willed woman himself, insisting that Samantha fight alongside her team to give him the chance to get better, a process that - according to the medic - would not speed up if they misbehaved.

And, of course, Gabriel knew that the chance she’d get the flu as well was slightly less if she didn’t spend twenty-four to seventy-two hours in close quarters with him.  This virus, whatever it was, was a  _vindictive_ little asshole virus, and the sooner his body had combated it so he wouldn’t make his girlfriend sick, the better.

Now, however, with a stomach that felt like it’d been pushed out via either his mouth or via his ass and with no television in their room, he felt at a loss about what to do.  Too miserable and still terrified of vomiting in his bed, sleep wasn’t an option; neither was reading, since he dreaded ruining his books.  He could use Sam’s laptop to play a game, but if he vomited all over that she’d have his hide and he couldn’t even blame her for it.

“Ah,  _merde_ , this day’s gonna take for-fuckin’- _ever_ …”, he groaned - and just then, his cellphone gave a soft bleep from beside his bed, causing him to raise an eyebrow and pick it up.  The message icon stood on his screen, blinking impatiently at him.  “...J’ai reçu un message?  M-mais… who the fuck…?”, he stammered, pressing a few buttons to display the text and then grinning as he read it.

 _“Yo amigo que pasa?!  You promised youd text man!  Tell me, how are you doing?”_ It was Jarrod, the latino pyro from another base that he’d met during the evaluation days the previous year.  The man was likeable enough: fun-loving, easy-going, fierce when it came to abusing the BLU team of his own base, and with a gorgeous body that Gabriel, of course, had gotten to appreciate up close and very personal.  They’d parted with three promises: to keep in touch, to keep their mutual teams scarred for life, and to sleep together again on their next evaluation days.  Of course, now with Samantha, the last part was looking doubtful - he wouldn’t endanger his relationship with the BLU fireball in any way, so cheating on her was out of the question and they’d only just made the promise to be exclusive to each other so their previous misbehaviour, like that one time with Archie and Billy, wouldn’t be repeated.  But still, he and the other RED pyro were friends as well, and he figured the other two parts of their promise were even more important to keep up in light of the last part being voided suddenly.

 _“Desole for not textin back, Jarrod, I’m doing great and you?”_   Hitting ‘send’, he wondered how long it’d take the other pyro to text back - meanwhile, he looked around the room to find something else to busy himself with, figuring that his friend was probably in battle just like he was-

Another beep of his cellphone got him to look back at it, seeing another message - when he opened it, he grinned at his friend’s reply.

 _“not too great ahora, amigo, sick & in bed, but other than that great.  you not in battle either?”  _It figured that, of all the things that’d get the other pyro to text him, sickness and boredom would be the winning combination - then, however, Gabriel mused that it was the same for him and snorted, shaking his head softly as he typed up a reply.

 _“sick too.  Fcukin’ flu foiré.  So you’re bored and you text me?  I’m flattered :P”_   Gabriel couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he sent the message, not bothering to look around the room again as he waited for his friend’s reply, which came in a flash.

_“Si, bored.  No other reason for texting you. Hard to imagine you layin’ sick in a bed amigo, hope your flu isn’t as vil as mine.  Bathroom will never recover”_

_“Plus pire, and same here.  Didn’t know there was so much crap in me.  ...Hard to imagine you layin in bed sick too Chili-boy”_ , Gabriel answered, grinning broadly.  Then, as he imagined Jarrod laying pale-faced in a bed like his, with cold sweat making his face clammy, he snorted and added on:  _“last time I saw ya in bed you were sweaty too, def not sick tho ;)”_   He sent the message and was surprised that it took the Chilean twice as long to answer as he had before, but when the bleep of his cellphone finally came and he read the message his friend had sent back, he fully understood why.

 _“did have a fever then, has a name too, its called Gabriell ;D so you thinkin about that night too huh?  Era increibile… just thinking of it makes my temp rise”_ The thought of his friend laying on his bed, miles and miles away from him but grinning at his cellphone just like Gabriel was doing now, was enough to make the RED pyro lick his lips and answer back in the exact same way he’d wish Jarrod to reply if the roles were reversed.  His fingers dashing over his numberpad to type, he felt his stomach burn only slightly and his thoughts heating up.

 _“bet it’s not just your temperature goin up, Chili-boy ;) danm that was a night to never forget, you’re fuckin fine Jarrod t’sais bien”_   After he sent the message and Jarrod didn’t reply right away, he wondered briefly if he’d upset his friend with the somewhat lewd message, but then, after a minute or two, his cellphone bleeped again and the message he had gotten in return made the slight squeezes his stomach still gave feel all the more distant and unimportant.

 _“(sorry stupid Deryk checked on me) you’re right it’s not just my temp ;D thinkin of how you letme fuck you amigo thats enough to get any man going, wish you were here so you could help me deal with this fever ya give me”_   An unsubtle shudder ran through Gabriel at the notion of having Jarrod in his bed with him, both sick but both aroused, with no one to miss them from battle…

 _“so what would ya do if i was there with you Chiliboy all hot and burning up with you?”_ That time, it took a minute and a half for Jarrod to answer back, the message making Gabriel’s blood heat up even more than it already had due to his fever.

_“take your hand and tell you to jerk me off an do the same to you, damn it amigo I am so hard wish you really were here, sus manos…”_

_“youre not the only one wishin I am so turned on right now just thinkin of you laying there jerkin’ me off, god damn it id make ya beg for more”_ Gabriel found his fingers faltering on the number pads of his cellphone, as if his fingers seconded his longing for them to busy themselves with bringing pleasure to the Chilean pyro instead of merely texting him.  He now imagined Jarrod laying on his bed, stroking himself with one hand and texting him with the other, and that seemed so perfect a mental image that, subconsciously and without him realizing it, his right hand wandered down over the covers to his now obvious arousal to give himself a slow, tentative stroke through the blanket and the sheets  _and_ his boxershorts.  Jarrod replied in the meantime - his cellphone bleeped but then fell silent mid-bleep as he already opened the message.

 _“yes amigo make me beg for you, if ya do it just right I’d plead for you to fill me up again (i amm getting off so hard on this Gabriel fuck es increibile can’t help it)”_ All in all, the message was enough for Gabriel to groan and push the covers off himself so he could stroke himself slowly and lightly with his right hand while typing a reply with his left hand.

 _“you gotta say it if you want me to fill you up Chili boy, say it like you mean it, say it like all you need is to be fucked hard and rough (jesus jte jure youre not the only one getting off on this, ah jarrod baise ta main comme ci c’est moi qui ten fait)”_ After he’d sent the message, Gabriel dropped his cellphone on the mattress beside him for a second to allow himself to push his boxershorts down to his knees, but as soon as his cellphone bleeped again he picked it back up and wrapped his right hand loosely around his erection, stroking himself slowly, allowing for the majority of the pleasure to come from the text messages his friend sent and not from his own calloused digits.

 _“god gabriel llename, take me just like this, no lube just frictinn, swear im gonna come hard when you fuck me rough… (you too amigo do it for me, ride that hand like its mine or my ass)”_ Gabriel shuddered unsubtly and picked up a little speed in his strokes reading it, but then willed himself to calm down again and prolong the pleasure.  Climax wasn’t what he was aiming for, it was the incredible  _heat_ of the moment that he wanted to keep alive, the way his entire body now seemed to have forgotten the viruses that were rampaging through him in favor of the fire Jarrod inspired within him.

 _“nuh uh say it like you want me to never stop making you come jarrod say it like you want me to fuck you sore (sounds good but going slow don’t wanna come just yet)”_ He sent the message and then waited - and waited, because Jarrod seemingly needed a lot more time now to compose his message.  When his cellphone bleeped, he quickly opened the message, only to find it not a text message like before: instead he saw a picture, awkwardly taken but vividly clear, of Jarrod’s scarred body and his hand wrapped around his own erect member, the knuckles of which were coated in a thin but clearly glistening layer of his seed - and while Gabriel was still busy processing that image, of his friend driven to orgasm by just a few texts and his own hand, the Chilean sent him the text message he’d expected at first.

 _“(come for me too gabriel) oh mierda si want you to fucl me sore gabriel I want to feel you so ddep inside me wanna ride you hard so all you gotta do is lay back and stroke me offf and maybe eat me out again when you filled me up (god wanna taste you so bad)”_ Those final six words got Gabriel to moan and finally give in to the urge: bucking up into his palm, he let the image of Jarrod laying next to him and pleading with those same words take over.  In combination with the friction of his scar-riddled palms and the sheer need coursing through his system, it was a matter of seconds before the pyro gasped and rode out his climax into his tightly clenched hand, his seed shooting out across his stomach before trickling down his hand feebly as his muscles stopped contracting again.  Catching his breath and licking at least his fingertips clean before wiping them on the sheet, which he’d have to discard later that evening anyway, he texted his friend back eagerly.

 _“I wanna fuck you sore too jarrod, want to do you from behind with you sittin on me riding me ca sera fantastique and id make you come so hard you would never come abck down again and yes eat you out while you cleanme up (pretend your hand is covered with my semen an not yours Chiliboy, clean it all up for me like I do for you, messed my stomach for ya)”_ Absent-mindedly, Gabriel’s right hand wandered to his stomach, gently wiping away the drying streaks of his own seed and licking them off his fingertips again when another message came, this one again a text message and the tone of it getting his hand instantly wrapped around his softening member again.

 _“do me from behind gbariel and make me cry out loud enough to make our teams stop battling for a moment ah si of course Id clean you up amign want to feel your tongue on mi culo. would even let ya fuck my nnuth so icould taste you all the better (mierda so close again amigo wish you could be here to suckme off right now)”_ Gabriel mused in a somewhat detached corner of his mind that he and Sam should try to do something like this as well from time to time, because it was driving him out of his mind with longing for the real thing - but his mind was already long disconnected from the drive that now had taken over his body, moving his fingers to both type the message and to wrap tightly around his fully erect member to stroke himself quickly and pleasurably.

 _“youd let me fuck your mouth huh thats an offer i love to take up chiliboy, eat you out and at the same time fuck that pretty hot mouth of yours until your eyes water, shoot my load right on your tongueand the back of your throat (shit close too you are just too good jarrod I could come a million times for you)”_   Right after he’d hit ‘send’, Gabriel found he had to push his head back into his pillow as another orgasm hit him hard.  “Oh  _merde, oh merdeeeeeh…_ ”, he whimpered, his hand coaxing every last drop of semen from him seemingly to make even more of a mess of his stomach - and when his cellphone bleeped again and he read Jarrod’s reply, he found his member  _twitch_ with the renewed flow of blood to his privates, making sure his erection did not go down again this time.

 _“you can fuck me anyway you want to amigo my mouth my hands my ass they’re all yours but maybe you also want me to fuck you in return no?  Get you bent over a table and fuck that tight ass of yours loose (ah amigo sounds like a good promise we’re not going anywhere anyway, make a mess of the bed)”_ “Mon dieu, j’le jure, Jarrod…”, Gabriel breathed out, stroking himself with more urgency, sending a reply that seemed too hurried and too short even though he wasn’t about to pause stroking himself to another orgasm that was already rapidly approaching.

 _“Maybe yeah maybe I should tie you to that bed and ride you until you pass out and then keep riding you until I pass out on top of ya wouldnt that be great Chiliboy (one mess coming up sorry if i respond slow too fuckingood)”_   Again, just as he hit ‘send’, he went over the edge, but this time even more ferociously so: now his back arched off the mattress at the thought of doing everything they’d spoken of doing.  Especially the thought of having Jarrod tied up underneath him while he drove himself down around the Chilean’s manhood was tantalizing, and it was that that got him to loudly moan out the other man’s name in the dead quiet of his room.  Jarrod’s anwer did come, but when Gabriel read it, no longer bothering to check his fingertips to inspect if they were clean, he grinned and put the cellphone back down on his bed before stroking himself again.

_“ai mi amigo lets just forget about this texting and jerk off until we have to stop textme a pic of your messy bedy”_

Gabriel didn’t need that said twice: using his left hand to gently fondle his testicles while his right hand still stroked himself with the same brutally fast pace and tight hold he’d used before, it was little to no wonder that he seemed to come within seconds, and then again a few minutes later, allowing the images their messages had evoked to dance and mingle in his mind’s eye.  Then, however, after catching his breath from one final perfect moment of release that had had him muffle his moan of utter pleasure into his sticky hand, he grinned and grabbed his cellphone, taking a picture of his fluid-streaked abs and his hand still wrapped tightly around his length, both of which were slick with his semen as well.  Then, he quickly sent it to the Chilean and allowed his weary body to finally wind down again all the way to a well-deserved and  _deep_ sleep.

 

“Mon amour… mon amour, wake up…”  It seemed like all too soon that Gabriel opened his eyes to find Sam standing next to him, looking him over in amusement.

“...Hnn, o-ouais, mon ange?”, he asked, to which she held out her cellphone.  Blinking, he repeated his question, thinking she hadn’t quite understood.  “Oui, qu’est-ce que c’est, mon ange?”

“...Did you really miss me so much that you sent me that in the middle of a battle?”, she asked, and Gabriel blinked.

“Sent you what?  I didn’t… I didn’t send you anything…”

“Oh, come on, I know that perfect body of yours when I see it - not to mention it’s your mobile number, mon amour.  Or didn’t you intend it for me?”, she asked lightly and mirthfully, and Gabriel blushed.  In his haste to get the picture sent so he could fall asleep, he’d apparently sent it to Sam instead of to Jarrod by mistake, and he was lucky his girlfriend was under the impression it was meant for her.  Grinning, he quickly winked at her.

“Who else could I have intended it for, mon ange?  ...Ah, j’me sens un peu moins foiré… I mean, I feel a little better now.”

“Heh, well, multiple orgasms will do that to a man, sick or not.  ...So, tell me, couldn’t wait for me to get back from battle, hm?”, she asked sweetly, causing Gabriel to blush.

“...Uh, t’sais, I was just… thinkin’ of how fuckin’ amazing you look and all of the fantastic sex we always have… and my body burnt like a fuckin’ forest fire, mon ange de feu…”, he admitted semi-truthfully - he hadn’t exactly been thinking of her in the beginning, maybe, but in those final few fantasies Sam had eagerly joined him and Jarrod and had allowed both men to have their way with her, which had made sure his last two moments of release had brought  _her_ name to his lips instead of Jarrod’s.  Then, with a soft but infinitely indulgent grin, he added: “Did ya read that text during lunch break?”

“...Dell was sitting next to me and he didn’t speak another word to me all afternoon.”, Sam admitted, though she didn’t seem half as sorry as she probably should be, Gabriel mused, stretching and then remembering that his cellphone had still been laying next to him.  When he looked for it, Sam smiled and held it out to him, a positively  _wicked_ smile on her face.  “Looking for something?”

“Qu-quoi?”, he said, reaching for it only for Sam to gently dangle it just out of reach.

“Made for some interesting reading material, those texts… so who is Jarrod the Chili-boy?  And how come  _he_ gets to sext with you, mon amour, and I don’t?”  With every word Sam spoke, Gabriel blushed more and sputtered more in an attempt to get a profuse and heartfelt apology out, but in the end, Sam shook her head and put the cellphone on his bedside table again before crawling over him, kissing him lightly.  “...You’re lucky I can’t be jealous of a man halfway across the country-”

“Oh, you looked him up on the company website?”, Gabriel asked, grinning softly and stretching underneath his girlfriend, trying to reach up to kiss her but failing to get her pulled down onto him properly just yet.

“I haven’t, but now that I know he’s also a member of RED… must remember to look him up…”, Sam said teasingly, and when Gabriel finally managed to pull her down against him, her body alluring and any care for his illness already long gone from his mind, he answered her teasing with a heated reply.

“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even be able to remember your name, mon ange.”


End file.
